The Deep Stuff (Markle)
by WhatAboutElla
Summary: Maya has a hard life, and a side that she shows no one. What happens when a boy sees this side? / terrible at summary writing but give it a chance / WARNING: Contains sensitive topics: Abuse and self-harm
1. Prologue

Maya POV

Sitting at my desk, I can't focus. I'm supposed to be doing my homework, finishing the work sheet for class and my half of the algebra poster that Riley and I were partners on. But I just can't. This bedroom is too small; I feel like the walls are closing in, just waiting to swallow me up. And I would almost welcome it. I glance over to the desk drawer where I had carefully hidden the thing. I start to move my hand toward the knob, but as I am about to pull the drawer open and retrieve it, I pull back. 'No,' I tell myself. 'Don't.' The urge subsides for now.I stand up and run my hands up over my face and hold them behind my head, elbows outstretched, pacing back and forth across the small span of my hell hole of a bedroom. I walk the few feet to the battered white door and jiggle the handle a bit. It doesn't budge. He's still keeping me locked up. And for what? All I did was drop one of his empty beer bottles. And it wasn't even on purpose.

He had screamed at me to take out the garbage, and when an empty bottle fell out and shattered across the kitchen floor, I had frozen. The brown glass lay in bits at my feet and I stood there, terrified of what this man would do to me. He screamed even louder then before calling me things that no one should ever be called, and forced me to bend and pick up each bit of glass with my bare hands. He stared down at me as I did so, fuming. I wince with each piece, feeling thesharp edges against my smooth palm. I rose to place the shards in the dustpan, but he stopped me with his grip was tight on my arm, too tight and it hurt. "Uh uh," he said in a mocking tone, "Take them out to the dumpster. Then come back and take rest of the trash you left here." I looked at him in horror. "GO!" he roared into my face, his alcoholic breath bombarding my lungs and causing me to cough. Silently I walked out of the apartment, a tear rolling gently down my face. I walked down the stairs noiselessly sobbing and hoping with all my heart that I wouldn't drop a single shard. As I descended the staircase, I began to feel more depressed then I had ever been. there was hope. Riley couldn't help with what she couldn't see, and with the whole Lucas thing, she definitely did not see the hurt I was feeling. No one cared. My own mother married some guy one weekend in Vegas, and brought him back saying it was love at first sight. That was a year and a half ago. The beginning of sixth grade. And that's when my real hell began.

My stepfather, Mike, hit me one night and threw me in a closet. He dragged me out in the morning, calling me horrible things, and sent me to school. And mother dearest was too drunk to care. Pulling myself out of the nightmarish flashback, I walked down final few steps and stumbled on a stone right in front of the dumpster. I sucked in a breath and squeezed my eyes shut waiting for the clinking of the glass shards hitting the ground again. But I only heard one. It was the largest piece of the broken bottle, and four uneven sides before coming to a razor sharp edge. I slowly emptied my hands of the remaining pieces, before bending down to pick it up. I stood slowly holding the fragment in my hand. I stared down at it, thinking about what I'd heard people could do with things like this. I quickly stuck it in my pocket and ran back upstairs. He barked at me as soon as I came in to take out the broken trash bag so I shimmied the broken one into a new trash bag and ran back down the stairs throwing it into the trash can and rushing quietly back up and into the apartment. I tried as hard as I could to slip in without him seeing me, but he caught me about halfway across the kitchen.

He grabbed my arm and dragged my down the hall and into my room. He threw me down saying, "Don't you have some homework to do?" Then he walked out and slammed the door. I heard the clicking of his key locking the door, confining me to this small space. And that's where I've been for the past two hours. Now I sit on my bed letting myself sink deeper into the hell that my life has become. I may put on a smile and sarcastic tough girl shell when I'm at school or with Riley, but its all pretend. This is who I am now. A depressed girl with no one who truly cares about her. I'd heard Mike's hurtful words so many times that I now believed them to be true.

Nobody loves me. Everything right now is so out of my control. I need something to happen that I can control. The walls are still closing in on me. I have to get out of here. I need to get away. Suddenly I stand up and walk to the drawer. I pull out my shard, saved from the dumpster outside our building, and I take it into the tiny bathroom that is connected to my hell hole and lock the door behind me. I stand staring into the small square mirror above the rusty sink. I take a deep breath and roll up my sleeve. I put the sharpest edge of the glass up to my wrist and move it downwards. The crimson blood drips down my forearm and I watch. It hurts at first, but I start to realize something about this physical pain: I am in control. When people hurt emotionally degrade me I can't do anything. I have no idea how they are going to react or whether he's going to hit me or not. But this pain I can control.

And it covers, if only for a second, how worthless I am. Feeling this controlled pain is better than feeling nothing at all. Better than being an empty shell of an unloved teenager. I slice two more times before stopping. I felt as if a small part of the weight on my shoulders had been lifted, even for only a second, and it was better than having all of it all the time dragging me down. I slowly and carefully cleaned off my wrist. I took the small towel from the rusted rack to my right and wrapped it carefully around my left wrist, then I rinsed off my shard. I felt… something. I felt a better I guess. When I stepped back into hell, I placed the glass back in its drawer and suddenly the good feeling of release was gone.. The walls were closing in, the dark windows obscuring any reassurance of a space outside this room. I was trapped and I couldn't escape. My breathing started to get heavier and uneven but right before the full on panic set in I violently switched off my desk lamp, which was the only light source in my tiny room. I curled up on the ground and began to even out my breathing pattern. Complete darkness always helped when I was about to freak out. My extreme claustrophobia would sometimes cause panic attacks. But as long as nobody touched me, which nobody ever did because nobody was ever there, and I could sit in darkness and calm down. I took deep breaths and began to calm down. After a few minutes, I climbed in bed and placed the bloody towel on my nightstand. The bleeding had stopped. I ran my cold fingers over the cuts gently, before falling slowly into sleep filled with nightmares almost as bad as my actual life.

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><p>That was about a year ago. When it started. When <em>I<em> started. Now its the middle of 8th grade and I still do. It releases tension. Puts me in control. I only wear long sleeves now, and I never go to the beach. I don't want anyone to see my scars. If they did, they wouldn't understand. They would say it was wrong, and try to take my blade away. That can't happen. I need it now.


	2. Chapter 1

_**A/N: **_**I'm sorry I took so long to update :( High school and theatre take up a lot of time. Forgive me?**

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><p><em>(The Middle of 10th Grade)<em>

Maya's POV

Waking up is always hard. But I do it. I don't really know why anymore, but I do. Today, I wake up fairly quickly, dragging myself out of bed and sticking my head into my tiny closet. I rummage through my clothes and pull out a red striped long sleeve shirt and some skinny jeans. I only wear long sleeves now, to hide everything. I strip off my ratty pajamas and put on my jeans. Before I put on my shirt, I examine my scars. The little whitish lines go up and down both of my forearms now. I rub my palm lightly over them, feeling the fresh ones I'd done last night after Mike hit me hard, once in the shoulder and again on my neck. I looked away and put on my shirt before walking over to the mirror and seeing that there was a giant bruise left on my neck that, unlike the one that had surely ripened on my shoulder, wasn't covered by the shirt. I pulled out a small case of makeup that I'd gotten about a year ago when Mrs. Matthews gave Riley and I some money for the the mall. I pull out the tiny tub of foundation that matched my skin tone and the foundation brush. I smeared it gently over the bruise being careful so I wouldn't make the sore spot hurt anymore. Once I was satisfied that the bruise had been covered as much as possible, I walked back to my closet and picked up my scuffed black combat boots. Sitting on the bed, I pulled them on and laced them up, tying them tightly at the top. I then went back to the mirror to brush my hair and make sure it looked okay. Finally, I picked up my backpack that was leaning against my rickety old desk and snuck quietly out of the room. I tiptoed past my mom and Mike's bedroom, just in case Mike was in their. My mom was already at work, but Mike was always here in the mornings when I woke up and in the afternoon when I got home from school. I'm not even sure he works these days. He used to leave every afternoon to work at the post office, but I doubted he did that anymore because it seemed like he never left the house except to buy more beer. I kept walking swiftly but quietly out into the main room and past the family room and kitchen. I looked in and saw Mike passed out on the ratty couch, beer still in hand, dripping and staining the ugly tan seat cushion, TV still blaring. I returned to tiptoeing and prayed that he would not awake from the drunken stupor he was currently in. Luckily he didn't and I made it safely out the door at 7:30; I even had time to grab an apple that I could eat at lunch. That gave me time to get to Riley's house and we would be right on time for school after the subway. I closed the door lightly behind me and let out a sigh of relief. I then proceeded to start walking to the Matthew's apartment building.

It took me about ten minutes to walk there and when I got there I put on my happy face like I always do, and pushed the buzzer.

"It's the pizza delivery guy,' I said in a mock deep voice. Someone upstairs pressed the button and I heard Auggie's incessant giggling in the background.

"Come on up girlie," I heard Mrs. Matthews say lovingly.

I walk into the elevator and press the button for Riley's dull melody of the elevator music and the hushed whispers of the old couple next to me bored me half to death, but I made it out into the 4th floor hallway alive. I walked up to the Matthew's door and knocked. After a second Auggie heaved open the door with a smile on that impish face of his.

"I learned how to spell 'pneumonia' you know," the 8-year-old said as I came inside.

"Oh yeah?" I countered playfully. "Yup. K-N-E-W-M-O-A-N-I-A," he told me with extreme confidence in his high-pitched voice.

"I think tonight we should practice your spelling hun," Mrs. Matthews said as she came up to us at the kitchen table with heaping plates of scrambled eggs and bacon.

Auggie only shrugged because he had already shoveled a spoonful of eggs into his little mouth. I was about to protest about having eaten at home like I do every morning, although I almost always did not eat at home, but this particular hot breakfast looked so delicious, I didn't even bother protesting. I sat down at my usual spot and joined Auggie in eating the delicious breakfast. A couple minutes later, Riley came out from her room, hair pulled back into a french braid. She was wearing blue jeans and her brown leather combat boots with a plain white t-shirt. Over that she had a colorful, flowy jacket thing that went to her knees and was open in the front. She yawned and walked to wear her slightly less hot plate of breakfast was waiting patiently and sat down.

"Good morning Maya!" she said cheerfully before digging into the eggs and bacon. I smiled politely, my mouth full of eggs. Soon Mrs. Matthews tells us to get to school so we won't be late for school.

Riley and I grab our backpacks and head out the door. We make our way down the stairs and out of the lobby of Riley's building, then turn left after the awning. The walk to the subway station is full of Riley babbling about Lucas and me hiding my feelings. The two had finally become a couple at the end of 7th grade and they'd spent that whole summer together, but here they both were in the middle of 10th grade, still as lovesick as ever. I let her go on and on about all the sweet things about Lucas and how their date went last weekend etc. But my mind isn't really with her as we make our way past the ticket both of the subway and find our train. My mind is off at home, dreading the terrible threats and slurred insults, just waiting to come tumbling out of his drunken mouth. Finally we see our train, or at least Riley does, and I'm shaken out of my mind by her wrenching me off the bench and dragging me by the hand over the threshold of the subway car. I pull my arm out of her grip and bite my tongue to dull the pain that shot through me as she pulled me up. I follow behind her and see her meet Lucas. he smiles and turns to her, sweeping her into a kiss. She wraps her arms up around his neck embracing the kiss. They stay there smiling and kissing, ignoring the looks of disapproval from the elderly women at the back of the train. I roll my eyes and clear my throat and they break apart. Riley blushes furiously and Lucas smiles and looks down, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. I chuckle and shake my head as they settle for holding hands. The rest of the subway ride consists of them talking about some project they have for Geography. Occasionally I but in with sarcastic comments about some idea they had, as usual. Sometimes it surprises me how I've managed to hide my huge secret from my three friends for so long. How they never even suspected that there was a reason that some days I am depressed at school, or how I always wear long-sleeves. I guess I've just had time to master the 'I'm fine' face. Sighing, I lurch forward as the train comes to a stop at the station closest to school. Riley hoists her leather messenger bag up onto her shoulder and we step off the car. Her hand never leaves Lucas' as we continue to make our way down the crowded sidewalk and up the front steps of Bard High School.

We get inside and walk down the main hallway. When Riley and I stop at our lockers in the middle of the hall, Lucas glances around and pecks Riley on the lips and smiles quickly before he splits off from us to go to his locker at the end of the hall. Riley smiles and blushes and the freshman lining the front of hall squeal and 'awwww' at the cuteness of the sophomore power couple: Ricas. Or Luley. Or Rucas, or Liley, who knows. The 9th grade girls always begin to argue about their 'ship name' whenever they see them. Riley and I turn to face our lockers and we chat about school and the upcoming dance, The Valentine's Day Soiree. Classy name, I know. The two of us were co-chairmen of. It was in two weeks, and it was the dance that the sophomores planned. The two of us were co-chairmen of it, because we beat out Missy and her possy for the chairmen positions. It was pretty funny to see them all storm off after the announcement was made. They tried to look cool as they walked away but Missy's too-short skirt started riding up and she had to reach back with the hand that wasn't holding her over-sized purse to yank it back down. As she was fixing that, the bleach-blonde on her right tripped over her too-high heels and the whole cluster of them nearly fell down. The flustered barbies had brushed themselves off and huffed as they sped up their walking pace. Riley, Lucas, Farkle and I had burst out giggling as soon as they rounded the corner, as did almost every other student in that hall. We put our assorted binders and notebooks into our bags and shut our lockers as Riley started asking me about streamer options. I told her we should have balloons fall out of a net at the end and float down to the ground at the end of the dance. She loved that idea, and took out her planning notebook to jot it down. We kept talking about the finishing details of our dance and walked down the hall to our first class.

(Lunchtime)

Our morning classes had gone by relatively quickly and now Riley and I were in the cafeteria. We set our stuff down at our usual table and I sat down. riley walked off to get in line to buy lunch. I sat there twiddling my thumbs until I decided to pull out my apple and eat it. Farkle slid onto the bench straight across from me and set his tray down. He smiled at me as I took a bite out of my apple. I noticed it was beginning to yellow on the inside, as a result from sitting on the counter for too long, but the taste wasn't terrible, and I knew that my friends would definitely know something was up if I stopped eating when they were around. I took another bite of the apple and chewed it slowly. Farkle, who had gotten taller and exchanged his bowl-cut hairdo for a shorter, choppier cut that swept to the side just a bit. His outfits had become less extreme, and he usually opted out of neon colored clothing on a day-to-day basis. His steel blue eyes sparkled as they always have as he began to talk to me.

"So Maya," he said brightly, "How's the dance planning going?" I smiled and shrugged.

"Fine," I replied. "Who are you bringing?" I asked casually, but for some reason Farkle got flustered.

"Uh," he hesitated before saying, "I haven't asked anyone, actually."

I raised an eyebrow at him. "You don't really want to third wheel it with Rucas, do you?" I question. "I mean, that's what I'll be doing obviously, because who would want to ask me to the dance, but you? You always have a date."

His face got a little sad, but he let out a faint chuckle, and it looked like he was about to say something in response when Riley and Lucas slid into their seats across from eachother at the table.

"Speak of the devil," I said with a small smile and a glance at Farkle. Lucas and Riley greeted us, but didn't notice anything and they just kept on with the conversation they had been having. I took another bite out of the apple and repeated the slow chewing process. Lunch continued on with the happy couple talking animatedly and me and Farkle interrupting periodically. When the last bell rang, I tossed my apple, which I had taken a total of 6 bites of, into the trash can on my way out. Riley and Lucas went to their next period together and Farkle and I split off from eachother at the doors of the cafeteria. I headed to art and sighed, thinking.

(Sometime After School)

The rest of that day had been pretty low-key. I went over to Riley's for a bit and we ordered the final decorations for the dance. Mrs. Matthews invited me to stay for dinner but I declined, telling her that my mom would be expecting me home soon. As I descended the stairs of the building I thought to myself, _My mother wanting me to come home. What an unrealistic fantasy._

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><p><strong><em>AN: _Sorry about the crap ending. I wanted to give you guys more to read. I'm sorry it took so long, but this one is basically double the length of the first one, so I hope that makes up for something. Also, you might notice that I don't really like writing dialogue. Sorry, but I'l try extra extra hard to get good dialogue in where it counts.  
><strong>

**-Ella (::)**


	3. AN: Don't be rude :)

**Hey guys. **

**So this is an author's note. Sorry it's not a new chapter (I can promise one soon though. I'm almost done, but I'm trying to make it longer for you guys.) Anyways, I just wanted to talk to you about something. I recently got some reviews for this story that I thought were fairly rude. I just want to remind you that I am trying to keep this as friendly as possible and that I ask for no flames. I am leaving out the commenter's names for courtesy.**

**The comments said:**

_You really need to make it so Riley finds out otherwise this story isn't over what a waste of my time_

_You suck d***_

**I just want to say that the story ISN'T over anyways so that was completely unnecessary. Second, you don't know what my plan is for this story so RUDE. And I'm sorry if this story was 'a waste of time' Let me just say that I'm writing this story (and my other stories) just as much for a creative outlet for myself as much as a good read for members of the fanfiction community. Just putting it out there. As for the second comment, that is just incredibly rude and it was posted after I put up this little message. I just wanted to say that it does not make me want to keep writing when people are so rude. So if you could please refrain from posting such rude comments as this in the future, it would be greatly appreciated. Thank you!**

**P.S.- Cookies for you if you read all of that (::)(::)(::)**

**Love you guys!**

**Ella (::)**


	4. Chapter 2

_**A/N: **_**Disclaimer: I don't personally have a panic disorder and I have no real experience of what a panic attack would feel like. I am trying to write about the minimal knowledge of panic attacks and ****I don't want to offend anyone.** **I'm sorry if anyone takes offense. **

**Also, as I am now caught up on GMW, I know that Maya's house is not as hellish as it is in my story and that Maya's grandma lives there too. But the setting I have started fits my story much better and since I started this story before we had seen Maya's house in the show, I feel like it's ok.**

Maya's POV

When I got home that night, I saw no sign of my mother. Mike had apparently stayed in his intoxicated sleep all day, because when I got home he was just beginning to stir on the couch. I darted into my room and closed the door as quietly as I could so he wouldn't know I was home. I set my bag down and sat on my bed. As I began to change out of my school clothes, I felt my chest seizing up and I couldn't think straight. I pulled my knees up to my chest and held them there tight. Thoughts rushed through my head and I was so panicked I wanted to scream, but the small voice of reason that was left behind reminded me that yelling and screaming would only worsen my pain by waking up Mike. I tried and tried to force down the rising panic but it wouldn't go away. I raked my hands down my face and bit down on my lip so hard it began to bleed. The room was getting darker and darker every second as I jammed my eyes shut so hard I began to see spots. I began to breath deeply in and out, trying to even out the ragged breathing pattern. After a minute the tension began to slip away and my mind began to sink back down to reality. I stopped shaking, and my eyes slowly peeled open as I continued to breath deeply.

Eventually I stood up and started pacing to take my mind of the thought of my panic attack. But pacing, as usual, led to thinking, and today I started thinking about how my mom hadn't been there for a single one of my panic attacks. Ever. I don't even know if she remembers I have a panic disorder. Why is she never there? Did I do something? Even now as a 15-year-old, I find myself asking what I did wrong to deserve the abuse and neglect that I receive. I must have done something. Why else would she ignore me and leave me at home with him, when she knows he beats me. What did I do?

My mind starts to overflow and I walk slowly to my drawer. I pull out the old shard and walk into the bathroom. I make a few new marks, to punish myself for whatever I'd done to make my mother hate me. I make sure that I rinse them clean and dry them gently before heading back into my room. I go to my small closet and pull open the door. I pull off my shirt, and as I am reaching for my pajama top, I catch a glimpse of myself in the long mirror on the inside of the closet door. I look at my body, and find myself wondering, 'Is it about my size?' Is that what she doesn't approve of? Further more, is that why no boy wants me? If I was skinnier and prettier, would she love me? Would she stand up to Mike and get him to stop hurting me? I vowed right then that I needed to be skinnier. If I could become perfect, then maybe my mother would love me and the pain could stop. I reach into the closet and pull out a tank top and some pajama bottoms to wear. I close the closet door and slip the pajamas on. I glance over to my backpack thinking about the homework that's due tomorrow, but turn and get into bed instead of doing it. School isn't important. Not when I have so much going on inside. As I drift off to sleep, I think about tomorrow. I just have to make it through, one day at a time.

(One week later, One week to the dance)

Maya's POV

I woke up and raised my arms above my head in a yawn. I sat there for a second before grabbing beaten up old phone Mr. Matthews had given me in 7th grade and checking the time. 7:15. Riley and I leave from her house for the subway at 7:30 every morning; after scarfing down whatever breakfast Mrs. Matthews has prepared. However, this week I've been late every morning so I could avoid breakfast. I had eaten a granola bar every day, occasionally something else if I was feeling especially weak. I stood up and walked quietly to the closet. I picked out red high-waisted shorts, a long sleeved blue and white striped shirt, then pulled on my tattered, old, black combat boots and laced them up. I went to the bathroom and grabbed the makeup pouch. I pulled out my base and concealer and went to work fixing up the bruise on the bottom left side of my jaw. It had been been freshly inflicted last night when Mike had been mad about a football game he had recorded a few weeks ago. He had just watched it last night, while he was so drunk he didn't realize how old it was or that the team had won all their games after this loss. I had walked out of my room at the wrong moment and his anger had been pushed at me with his fist. I cringed as my distraction caused me to press too hard with the makeup brush. When I finished covering it up, I moved on to my eyes. I put a light nude palette eyeshadow on, and topped it off with cat eye liner and mascara. I put a lip balm on and slipped back out into my room. I grabbed my backpack and slipped quietly out into the hall. I took a deep breath and walked out into the kitchen. Luckily for me, Mike was not in the tv room. He must of actually slept in a bed last night. I continue to walk quietly through the house and I'm grabbing a granola bar for lunch when I hear it. My mother screams and something glass shatters. I hear Mike's gruff voice next and I'm frozen where I stand. My mother shouts again and before I know it I'm out the front door running down the stairs, trying not to cry.

I ran to Riley's house and regained my composure before buzzing up to them. "Maya here." I said into the speaker. About three seconds later, I heard the voice of Auggie saying, "Come up!" I smiled and walked into the elevator. I pressed the button for Riley's floor and stood in silence, the only sound being the same old boring music that was always playing in the elevator. When it stopped and the doors opened on the Matthew's floor, I stepped out into the hall. I walked to Riley's apartment and knocked on the door. It was immediately opened by Riley who rushed outside, grabbing my hand and pulling me back into the elevator. "Bye Mom!" she yelled over her shoulder as we left.

When we got in the elevator she turned to me. "You're late!" she said, exasperated. I sighed and shrugged. "I woke up late," I lied. "Oh well. Sorry you didn't have time for breakfast!" "That's okay," I said "I ate a big dinner last night." Another lie. When the the elevator reached the lobby, we stepped out and raced to the subway. We flew through the turnstiles and made it onto our train just in time. When grabbed onto a pole and sighed in relief, smiling, as the train started moving. Someone came up behind and we turned to see Lucas and Farkle standing there. "Hey," I said to Farkle, because Lucas and Riley were already greeting eachother in a very friendly manner. "Oh, hey Maya," he said in reply, offering a small smile. We stood awkwardly while we waited for Lucas and Riley to stop making out, but it seemed as if it wasn't going to end soon, so we turned back to eachother and attempted a conversation. "So… uh, how's the dance planning going?" he asked. "Pretty well, actually. We are almost done with everything and we found all the volunteers to help us set up, so that's good." I replied. "We just have to finish up decorations for the entryway where the couples take pictures." "Speaking of, uh, that, Maya w-" Farkle began but he was cut off by the subway speaker telling us that is was our station. Lucas and Riley, who had finally separated while Farkle and I were talking got off the train before us, walking hand in hand.

I rolled my eyes and followed, with Farkle walking at a slow pace behind me. Both of his hands were clutching the strap of his leather messenger bag and he was looking down. I looked back at him and said, "Come on Farkle, we should catch up to Lucas and Riley." He looked up and said, "Yeah," quietly. I walked ahead with Farkle trailing a step behind me until we reached Lucas and Riley. By that time, we were just about to walk up the steps to school, and as we walked, the craziness of a high school began to ensue all around us. I narrowly missed a kid biking by me at extreme speeds with no helmet, but Farkle, had grabbed my sleeve and pulled me out of the way just in time. We walked in the front doors and looked to see how many freshmen were ogling Rucas today. I motioned to Farkle to count how many on the left side of the hallway, while I counted the right. He gave a lopsided smile and began his work. We made our way down the hallway until we were out of the freshman lockers.

We looked at eachother and I let out an exaggerated sigh of relief while he laughed. "Well the right side of the hall had 23 oglers," I said nonchalantly, "How 'bout you?" This seemed to snap him out of some deep thought. "Huh? Oh, uh, I counted 17." "Huh. Only 40 today? Usually there are more." He chuckled and raised his gaze up from the floor to meet my eyes. "I gotta go to Chem. See ya' at lunch?" he asked with a slight smile. "Sure," I replied, returning the smile. He turned to walk away and I called after him, "Save me a seat!" He looked back over his shoulder giving me a thumbs up. I turned back to my locker, the one right next to Riley's, and put in the combination. As I did, Riley finally turned back to her locker as Lucas walked further down the hallway to his first class. I smirked at her and she blushed, still not fully used to the attention she got for dating 'Mr. Perfect.' I grabbed my english textbook and my notebook and stuffed them into my unorganized backpack. She grabbed her things as well and then turned to me. We started talking about the finishing touches of the soiree as we began making our way down the hallway. She had to go to History, so she made a left turn a little ways down the hall. I kept walking on my own to my English class.


End file.
